Like most of you, I have a father. He’s been dead for a while. None of that covers the important bits.
The important bits are as follows:
My Dad was highly imperfect. He drank a bit too much on occasion. He often agreed to do things (especially where my mother was concerned) that he had absolutely no intention of ever doing. He was slow to take help when it was offered, even if he needed it. He was stingy with compliments. To be fair, he was equally stingy with complaints.
He had a strong sense of right and wrong. He didn’t take shit from anyone, but he never purposefully hurt people either. He never played favorites. He had a great sense of humor. He was an avid Mets fan.
He gave me deep-set eyes that are usually gray-blue but that change color. (He also gave me his ears which stick out, but I can forgive that.) I’m grateful for his examples, both positive and negative. I miss him. Sometimes, even after 16 years, I still cry when I think about him.
He told me he loved me, even though he didn’t always like what I did. That was an amazing gift.
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